Rayan stepped back from where his victim was towering over him, his bloodstained mask held in their trembling hand. His hand instinctively went to grab a knife, a scalpel, anything that would help him, before their other hand grabbed ahold of his.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing." Rayan managed to utter, before flinching as his mask was thrown to the floor, the tip of a knife now against his neck.
Rayan stared, eyes wide, at his mask, sighing. "That was my best fucking mask, bloody hell."
The victim paused in surprise. "..You're not bothered that I'm literally holding a knife to your throat?"
"Well, of course not, it happens all the time."
The victim paused again, before sighing, rolling their eyes as they stepped away from him, twirling the knife through their fingers. "Was hoping to get at least a whimper from you, how are you-"
But when they looked back at their torturer, Rayan was gone.
Then a bat hit the back of their head, bloodied wood meeting flesh and bone with a sickening crack. Within a few seconds, the victim was unconscious on the floor from the blow, Rayan standing above them.
Rayan slung the bat over his shoulder, chest heaving as he backed away and pressed his back on the nearest wall, hands shaking.
God, that was close.
